This is Ria.
Welcome to Little Stories for Tiny People.
I am so happy to be with you today.
Where I am, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and everything feels so hopeful.
And I was just hit in the head by a paper airplane.
You know, someone must have thrown that airplane.
Paper airplanes don't just materialize out of thin air.
All right, hold on.
Let me just take one look.
As I suspected, there is a note inside.
Going to need my magnifying glass for this.
Okay.
Dear Rhea, our highly official office has received a number of noise complaints.
As we review this serious matter, please refrain from all loud speaking, Singing of all types, Wacky jokes Laughter, Expressions of glee and vacuuming.
Sincerely, the Office of Studio Spider and Beetle Noise Regulation Committee of America.
You know, in my experience, highly official letters do not arrive by way of paper airplanes flown into my forehead.
And you know what?
I was going to tell a quiet, gentle story about a glowworm today.
I'm looking through it now and I see no laughter, no wackiness of any kind, certainly no singing and only the mildest expressions of glee.
But after receiving this note, I'm throwing it out the window.
Oh, and I'm silencing my email notifications while I tell you a story that contains all of these prohibited elements.
Let's hear it, shall we?
It's called Another Little Hedgehog Talent Show.
Take it away, Aiden.
Remember, there are no pictures.
You'll have to imagine the pictures in your mind.
You can imagine them however you want.
Okay, here we go.
It was lunchtime at Little Hedgehog School and she and her best friend Bebe stood in line with their trays.
The lunch lady, Ms.
Hippopotamus, scooped something mossy-looking onto students' plates.
Bebe, what do you think we're eating today?
I am not sure.
It resembles the material I found on the underside of a rock last Wednesday.
My guess is it contains macadamias.
Well, that goes without saying.
In mid-spring, a fellow student named Wilson Bickle Bun, a dashing young muskrat known for being too smart for his own good, discovered that the central hallway of the school was sloped just enough that an unshelled macadamia nut could roll from the west end to the east end without a hitch.
Since then, macadamia racing had become a favorite pastime.
Students gathered macadamias on the way to school and the passing periods between classes soon filled with the sounds of macadamias rolling down the hall, children giggling and teachers attempting to restore order.
Stop that rolling this instant.
Those are nutrient-dense little packages, not bowling balls to be hurled down a gently sloped hallway.
Now, I want all the macadamias in this bucket.
There you go.
Martine, be a dear and deliver these to the lunchroom.
Ms.
Hippopotamus, who typically spent several hours a week netting crickets and capturing snails for school lunches, welcomed the sudden influx of macadamias.
Soon, every day's lunch menu incorporated them in one way or another.
Macadamia porridge.
Macadamia cricket stew.
Macadamia beet smoothie.
Shredded carrot pancakes topped with.
You get the idea.
There was a bit of a trade-off involved.
Ms.
Hippopotamus was able to reduce her cricket-netting hours, but now she had to spend nearly as much time shelling the nuts.
If one arrived early to school, before dusk, one would hear the continuous cracking of macadamia nuts.
As Ms
Hippopotamus hit them with a small hammer.
But very few students arrived before dusk so they had absolutely no idea how much effort went into these lunches.
Anyway, Little Hedgehog and Bebe were next in line.
You know, it actually looks like the moss mud pies I used to make after it rained.
Yum.
Ms.
Hippopotamus smiled at the girls from behind her thick glasses.
She lifted a hefty scoop of the unknown substance into her ladle and said, Here you go, Kit.
That's when the intercoms crackled to life from all four corners of the cafeteria.
Attention students and faculty, it is I, Principal Petri Dish, with some positively explanatory end-of-year announcements.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared up, including Ms.
Hippopotamus, who paused, ladle in the air, and blinked up at the speakers from behind her bifocals.
First off, our librarian Professor Whiskertail requests that all books be returned by Monday evenings.
At this, a number of students around the lunchroom were filled with mild alarm.
Be advised, she will levy fines for egregious rips.
Uh-oh.
Tears.
Did she say tears or tears?
Notes in the margins.
But they help me retain information.
Water damage.
I can't help it.
I live in a swamp.
And bite marks.
Okay, but what if you ate the whole book?
Additionally, you can pick up a summer reading worksheet at the front office.
Next up, I am pleased to announce the auditorium is free of newt.
Now this was a welcome update.
There was scattered applause and satisfied smiles throughout the lunchroom.
You see, weeks ago the drama teacher, frustrated with the wooden performances of her class, took a moment to get fresh air.
I need but thirty seconds, children.
After some deep breaths, she did return in thirty seconds with renewed patience.
But she accidentally left the exterior door ajar.
That's all it took.
By the next evening, the auditorium was overtaken by newts.
The newts liked their new digs and seemed to have no intention of leaving, especially since a small inflatable pool had been set up on stage to serve as a pond in the upcoming school play.
We love it here.
It's so much nicer than the bog.
The school play was postponed until further notice, the end-of-year choir concert had to be moved to the courtyard and the annual talent show was cancelled altogether.
Until now.
Now that the auditorium is newt-less thanks to Newt Transport for You, a local business that we encourage you to hire for all your newt transport needs we have decided to hold the annual talent show after all, on the final night of school.
Cheers erupted throughout the lunchroom.
But we have to pull it together quickly.
There will be a sign-up sheet posted on the big bulletin board.
There are 25 slots.
First come, first served and, given the overwhelming number of juggling performances last year, we have made the difficult decision to allow only one of each type of talent in the show.
And now, the students blinked up at the intercoms, expecting the school activities director, Ms.
Swindletooth, to jump in with an original song about the talent show.
Here's Mr. Duckworth, school facilities director, with an announcement about the lost and found.
Look.
Uh, here's the thing.
You've got until Thursday to pick up your things from the lost and found.
Anything left over, I'm giving at the heave-ho.
Alright, you get me?
The students, who were unfamiliar with the phrase heave-ho, did not fully get him.
Look, uh, Ms.
Swindlebooth?
Huh?
Excuse me.
Ms.
Swindletooth offered to sing an original song about the lost and found.
So listen up.
The students in the cafeteria sat still on their benches, stood still in line for food and blinked up at the speakers with mild trepidation.
Ms.
Hippopotamus remained frozen.
The ladle of unknown macadamia substance aloft in the air over Little Hedgehog's platter.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe exchanged a look.
Ms.
Swindletooth began.
Listen closely, do you hear?
Something's calling, something near.
An argyle sweater, a fleece-lined hat, a braided belt, Your brother's baseball bat.
A water bottle with built-in straw.
A single mitten.
For a lonely paw, they're all calling.
Don't you hear?
And now the time is finally here to scurry, skidder scamper trot on down to forest, little schools lost and found.
Stop on by in your weighted town.
Find your missing ballroom gown at the lost.
The oh so lost, Lost and Found.
The intercom fell silent.
The lunchroom came alive once more.
Students milled about.
Some abandoned their lunches and scurried off to the lost and found.
Ms.
Hippopotamus ladled the latest lunch concoction onto Little Hedgehog's plate.
Here you go, kids.
Macadamia snail souffle with a dollop of moss.
After the stunning announcement that the talent show would be held in one week's time, the students could hardly focus for the rest of the afternoon.
Ms.
Pink Tree shared a fascinating lesson on the history of treehouse architecture.
Students, this may shock you, But the first treehouse in this forest had no window.
The advent of treehouse windows did not come until Well.
To be honest, that's a topic of contentious debate among treehouse historians.
Some believe that windows...
At least the kind you would identify as.
But the students could not stop thinking about the talent show.
What do you think about me doing wood floor installation for my talent?
Do you think that would translate well on stage?
I don't know.
It might be hard for people to connect with.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe were no exceptions.
All they could think about was the sign-up sheet.
Bebe, I am so excited.
I know exactly which talent I'm going to showcase this year.
What is it?
Tell me immediately.
I can't.
It's a surprise.
All right.
I enjoy surprises.
You know, I feel bad for all the jugglers.
It is completely up in the air as to which juggler will reach the signup sheet first.
Good one, Bebe.
After what seemed like the longest night of their lives, the final bell of school rang and the students rushed out the door.
Three students, known to be jugglers, were the first into the hall.
Don't forget, your final exam is on Thursday.
Remember to study mid-century treehouse door styles, children.
Amid the mad dash for the exit, a nervous rabbit named Marjorie dropped her binder, popping open the metal rings and spilling dozens of papers, including her study guide, which had illustrations of five different types of mid-century door styles.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe stopped to help her.
Oh, thank you so much.
Marjorie, these are nice doodles.
Oh, they're nothing.
You are very talented.
I especially like the bubble letters.
Really?
You think so?
Yes!
Truly.
After Marjorie's binder was back in order, Little Hedgehog and Bebe headed to the talent show sign-up list.
They were last in a line of a dozen students and happened to be right behind Bebe's distant cousin, Chase Prickleton.
Hello, Bebe.
Hello, Chase.
Little Hedgehog was unbothered by being so far back in line, given that her unusual talent was unlikely to be claimed by anyone else.
Bebe was also unbothered, as she was still trying to narrow down which of her many talents to select and was secretly hoping the majority of them would be taken before she reached the sign-up sheet, so that her decision would be easier.
The best friends pass the time discussing other things.
Bebe, do you ever wonder what it's like to ride in a spaceship every night?
Time flies when you're talking to your best friend.
So, in what felt like a flash, Chase Prickleton finished signing up in the 12th spot and stepped aside.
Bebe was next.
She quickly scanned the list of entries, disappointed to see not one of her possible talent options had been taken.
She thought for a minute. then scribbled her name and a talent beside it.
Oh, I can't wait to see you pull that off, Bebe.
I may need your assistance, which is an alternative word for help.
I'd be honored, of course.
Finally, it was Little Hedgehog's turn.
She plucked up the pencil, sitting on a little ledge beneath the paper, and wrote her name in large, looping cursive letters.
Next to it, under the talent column, she wrote chameleon training.
Her eyes twinkled as she imagined her performance.
She pictured walking on stage with her pet chameleon little guy on her shoulder prickles, and He usually slept through the night, so she'd have to prod him gently awake before setting him on stage.
He'd give the audience an adorable aw shucks smile.
Little Hedgehog would then lead him through a series of tricks.
She'd recently taught him how to walk on a tightrope by dangling a bug at the other end.
And of course she'd have him change color on command by having him walk up a little ladder.
She painted.
Each rung with a different hue.
Little Hedgehog's eyes sparkled at the thought, and she replaced the pencil on the little ledge.
She twirled around to her best friend and said, Yay!
But B.B., who was peering at the sign-up sheet, said, Um... Little Hedgehog furrowed her brow.
Yes, Bebe?
You might want to take a look. at the eighth entry on the sheet.
Little Hedgehog spun around.
There, in the eighth spot, it read, Sally Goose, Chameleon Training.
There are 25 slots for scum first served and we have made the difficult decision to allow only one of each talent in the show.
Hmm.
Reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, Little Hedgehog erased Chameleon Training from beside her name.
She erased it so cleanly, you'd have never known anything had been written there at all.
She was more talented at pencil erasing than most.
But alas, pencil erasing was not a talent easily showcased in front of a crowd.
Little Hedgehog brainstormed briefly, but could not come up with any other ideas.
She had really had her heart set on chameleon training.
With a sigh, she erased her name from the talent show sign-up sheet, too.
Over the next few nights, Little Hedgehog puzzled over which of her talents to showcase.
Twirls with high kicks was taken by a tortoise named O'Hare.
Envelope decoration was taken by a prairie dog named Sylvie.
Little Hedgehog was doubtful that eternal optimism could be conveyed properly before an audience, and yet Barnabas Rabbit had claimed it for himself.
On Wednesday evening, just a couple of nights before the talent show, Little Hedgehog scampered to the sign-up sheet towards the end of lunch.
Bebe!
Of course Bebe was right behind her.
What is it, Little Hedgehog?
The two friends peered at the sheet.
Some student names and talents were more legible than others.
One particular entry, written by Melvin, a chicken, was extremely difficult to read.
But that is entirely beside the point.
The point is, all of the 25 slots were taken.
In history class that afternoon, Ms.
Pinktree led the students in a final exam review.
Now, who can tell me the year downspouts were first added to treehouses in the west end of the forest?
Anyone besides B.B.?
?
Anyone?
Anyone?
But she was interrupted by the intercom crackling to life.
Attention students and faculty, it is I, Principal Petri Dish, with an update regarding the talent show to be held this Friday, the final night of the school year.
As of lunchtime today, all 25 talent show performance slots were filled.
The intercom abruptly fell silent.
The students blinked up at the speaker.
Ms.
Pinktree continued with her exam review.
Now then, children, this will be on the test tomorrow.
Is there anyone...
Anyone, besides Bebe that is, who can tell me the year the downspouts were first added to.
Apologies, students and faculty.
I accidentally elbowed the red button.
Ms.
Pinktree sighed.
The children again blinked upwards.
As you may recall, a moment ago I relayed the fact that, as of lunchtime today, all 25 talent show performance slots were filled.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe exchanged a significant look.
However, my accidental elbowing prevented me from sharing an important update.
While all slots were filled, we discovered that several students signed up to display talents that would not work well for the stage.
Those affected students have been notified and their names and talents have been removed from the sign-up sheet.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe's eyes went wide.
Students, we must be able to observe your talents from the audience.
Therefore, skills such as brainstorming, remembering old times, making mental connections, having new insights about life, coming up with unspoken analogies, seeing the glass half full and sewing small buttons onto garments while all valuable talents that we generally encourage will not be permitted at the talent show,
Please see me with any questions.
And for those who did not yet have the opportunity to sign up, there are now three open slots.
Have a great rest of your night.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe's eyes twinkled with possibility.
Bebe, this is my chance.
Indubitably.
Oh, wait.
Bebe.
Yes, Little Hedgehog.
I still have no idea what talent to showcase.
Allow me to share a brief familial anecdote that may be applicable to this situation.
Okay.
I once met my great aunt's sister's mother-in-law, Miss Debbie, at our annual family reunion.
Okay.
She was what you'd call a real character.
Oh, okay.
Miss Debbie was once the lead singer of a jazz band named the Snappy Turtles.
Her bandmates were all turtles.
One night, the Snappy Turtles were playing a sold-out gig.
After they finished their last song, the audience shouted for an encore, but the band did not have any more songs to sing.
Miss Debbie told me she was shaking in her boots, but then, all of a sudden, she saw a silver moth fly through the air and circle her head, catching the stage lights from above.
And on the spot, she came up with a song entitled Silver Moth Don't Leave Me Now.
It became the band's top hit for the decade.
Wow!
Miss Debbie told me she no longer gets nervous in such situations because she trusts that when the moment comes, something will come to her.
And I believe if you go to the sign-up sheet, something will come to you too.
What an inspiring story, Bebe.
I sure hope that's- But Little Hedgehog was interrupted by Ms.
Pink Tree.
Can anyone please tell me the year downspouts were first added to the treehouses in the west end of the forest?
Bebe raised her paw.
Go ahead, Bebe.
1703.
That's correct.
When the school bell rang, Little Hedgehog and Bebe scampered to the sign-up sheet once more.
There were two students ahead of them.
Little Hedgehog was relieved. as it would give her precious moments to brainstorm.
But by the time it was her turn, with just a single open slot on the list, she still had no idea what to write.
She wrote her name once again in large, looping letters.
Going very slowly, hoping something would come to her.
She finished the last letter of her name and sighed
Then...
She heard a familiar sound and turned to see a lone macadamia nut rolling down the gently sloped hallway.
It rolled right to her.
She stopped it with her foot.
Down at the other end of the hall, McGinty Wilkerson, a mischievous badger in a different class, scowled.
Hey, why did you stop my macadamia?
But Little Hedgehog paid him no attention.
In fact, she didn't even hear him.
Bebe, Little Hedgehog said, plucking up the nut from the floor.
Yes, Little Hedgehog.
I think...
Something just came to me.
Wow.
Miss Debbie was right.
Little Hedgehog swiftly scribbled her talent on the sign-up sheet beside her name.
She returned the pencil to the ledge, twirled around, and said...
Yay!
This time, Bebe, glimpsing her friend's entry, replied with, Yay!
The next night was a whirlwind of end-of-year busyness.
There were tests to take.
Students, please sharpen your pencils before the test begins so that we can all...
Focus.
Library books to be returned.
Do you think Professor Whiskerdale will mind that he nibbled on the acknowledgements page?
Nobody reads that, right?
Lost and found items to be, well, found.
Look, everybody.
I found my toothbrush.
I've been looking for this for three months.
I better go brush my teeth.
And desks to be cleared out.
Hey, guys, look.
Monty Dormouse didn't move away.
He's just been hibernating on my desk the whole year.
After school, the talent show participants all rushed home to practice their acts.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe helped each other prepare, but there was little time.
And soon, there was no time at all.
On the final night of school, the entire student body gathered in the courtyard where a small stage had been erected.
Mr. Duckworth stepped up to the microphone.
Hello?
Look uh, we gave Miss Swindletooth the old heave-ho, so uh, The students and staff exchanged confused looks.
Just kidding.
She's out with a tooth injury.
Chipped her front tooth on a carrot or something.
None of my business.
Anywho, Principal Petri Dish asked if I would fill in, and I said, sure, why not?
I got nothing else going on.
Let's get this going, shall we?
Mr. Duckworth did indeed get things going.
First up was Wilson McDonnelly with a rousing sourdough bread kneading performance.
Now, after you finish...
You need a little patience to let the dough rise.
You get it?
You get my joke?
There was a tap dancing act.
A piano recital.
A beekeeping demonstration.
A poem recitation.
This poem was written by my neighbor, a worm named Charlene.
Ahem.
The puddle gleams in the moonlight.
Its surface ripples.
In the moonlight.
Sally Goose guided her pet chameleon, Bartholomew, through a series of tricks.
Wow, Bebe.
I have to say, Sally is really good at this.
I can't believe she got him to play that tuba.
Indeed.
Bebe's distant cousin, Chase Prickleton, played a solo chess game against himself and won handily and also lost in under two minutes.
When it was Bebe's turn, Little Hedgehog joined her on stage, seated at a desk off to the side with a typewriter.
And now for Bebe Hedgehog, performing as a living thesaurus.
Little Hedgehog put a paw to her chin and said, Oh me!
Oh my!
I sure wish I could think of a more interesting word than tired.
Bebe, standing center stage, smiled.
Allow me to suggest these alternatives.
Exhausted.
Depleted.
Drained.
Weary.
That's it!
Weary!
Thanks, Living Thesaurus!
After a few more thrilling performances... And now, here's Sidney Frog playing water glasses.
And now, here's Johnny Muskrat sharpening a pencil.
Wow, that's sharp.
That's actually dangerous.
And now, here's Flora Mouse singing an opera.
It was finally time for the last act of the evening.
Little Hedgehog headed to the stage.
Bebe dutifully helped her friend set up the ramp they had made the night before.
Then she moved off stage and picked up a small music player.
Little Hedgehog stood on a small platform at the top of the ramp. and nodded to Mr. Duckworth.
And now, Little Hedgehog, excuse me, Hedgehog, will perform a prickle roll.
Bebe pressed a button on the music player and Little Hedgehog instantly leapt in the air, tucked into a prickly ball and went tumbling down the ramp.
It was a lengthy ramp with turns and ups and downs. and at the very end, it curved upward.
Little Hedgehog rolled smoothly over each segment, then seemed to gain speed.
At the end went flying off the ramp, spun in the air three times and landed on her feet.
With just the slightest wobble, she flung her paws into the air and giggled.
Yeah, okay.
That was great.
Let's have everybody back on stage.
All the performers returned to the stage, linked paws, claws and talons and together gave a final bow.
It was the perfect way to end the school year.
Little Hedgehog and Bebe. headed out under a moonlit sky for a summer filled with adventures.
You know what would be the perfect way to end my show today?
A bit of vacuuming.
I hope you loved the story.
Little Stories for Tiny People is written, performed, and produced by me, Rhea Pector.
My in-house tech director, Peter Kay, runs my website and puts my stories on the internet for all of you to enjoy.
To unlock the full Little Stories library and to access Little Stories for Sleep, an exclusive bedtime podcast.
You can join or gift a subscription to Little Stories Premium.
Thank you to Aiden for the super important reminder message at the beginning.
And thank you to the many premium subscribers who supplied sound effects used in this story.
Thank you to Sunny Danny Ada Chloe Lexi Eloise Miriam, Leora Link, Maddie Brooke Rosalie Liv Lily Beckett Lennon Abby Hannah, And thank you, as always, for listening in.
